It didn't really matter who I was before all of this happened. 

But somewhere out there in the universe, there was still a version of myself that lived in New York City and worked a stupid little job wearing a stupid little Charlie's Pizza uniform complete with a vest and tie. He was the baby version of Hector Navaro, with fat cheeks and all. 

Yeah, that guy had no idea what was in store for him.

On Monday, 

the president and a few grizzled old men in suits showed up on TV to warn us that a huge, burning chunk of iron in the shape of a giant meteor was barreling toward us. They called it KG6 and nicknamed it Kay, but they assured everyone that the worst thing that could happen was a few floods and maybe some earthquakes toward New York City. 

I think we all suspected we were going to die at this point.

On Friday, I lost count of how many times I heard my neighbor fuck his girlfriend through the wall to the songs "Radioactive" and "Hey There, Delilah" on repeat. There were parties all night celebrating the end of the world and Kay's imminent arrival, like it was some kind of big joke to everyone that we could potentially end up charred specks floating around in space.

I'm not going to lie and say that I sat in front of the TV wearing my tinfoil hat while everyone was playing dumbass, but I went out and stocked up on a few rolls of toilet paper and cleared Target of all their strawberry-frosted Pop-Tarts because I didn't know what else to do when my imminent demise was around the corner. 

I didn't have anyone to ride out the end of the world with, and I sure as hell wasn't going to waste my time getting fucked up the ass to Hey There, Delilah on repeat while the world burned.

That being said, I wondered if something was wrong with me.

I mean, I knew I was weird in a lot of ways, like how much I detested dairy products and guys who hung out at Trader Joes and listened to indie music. But I hadn't actually dated anyone, and with Kay looming around the corner, I knew this was my only chance. 

On Sunday, I'm busy downloading Grindr and start talking to this mystery guy when the president comes back on TV and announces to the world that Kay was heading directly towards Earth and to prepare ourselves for the worst possible outcome, which was death. Kay would hit the ground so hard that, in a matter of seconds, the meat would burn off our bones. It sounded like a good enough time to die next to someone instead of alone, so I worked up the courage and asked Mystery Guy if he wanted to meet up somewhere.

"Hey, it looks like we're going to die in a couple of days. You want to meet up somewhere?"

"Hold on, let me check with my boss. I work night shifts at McDonald's. I'm not sure if I'm going to be off anytime soon."

"Okay, you're joking, right? It's literally the end of the world."

As it turns out, Mystery Guy wasn't joking, but we set up a date anyway and planned to meet at the Roxbury Motel on the outskirts of New York and have dinner together while the world went to shit around us. At this point, I figured this guy was some kind of McFreak who wanted to drink my blood and ravish my supple body before the world ended, but I wanted to give him a chance and give myself the opportunity to meet someone halfway decent before I died. 

You're probably thinking, Hector, maybe meeting some random guy at a hotel during the apocalypse isn't the brightest idea, but I had brought a few weapons, and I wasn't afraid to use them. Unless he was a creepy old man or something, then I could just knock him down and run.

I drive to Roxbury the next day in my old car with one tiny suitcase full of my clothes in the backseat and a gun resting against my hip. I'm in my favorite knit black sweater and some nice pants, and I'd cut my own hair a little too close for comfort since all the salons were understandably closed for the rest of the year, but I figured it didn't matter.

Honestly, I didn't know what I was really looking for in meeting this guy. 

I wasn't planning on getting laid, but Mystery Guy had picked a hotel for us to meet at, and he'd been on Grindr when I met him, so the chances of some kind of sexual encounter happening were relatively high, and I didn't have the energy to explain in detail my lack of interest to him when it finally happened and he was on top of me.

I guess I just wanted to feel close to someone and maybe cuddle while Kay finally turned everyone into burnt chicken nuggets. It felt like having tonsil surgery as a kid and having the nurse hold your hand before you went into the operating room. You didn't know what was going to be on the other side when you finally woke up, but you knew you were going to be missing an organ or two.

I pull into Roxbury's gravel parking lot sometime before midnight. 

The sky was a muted, permanent orange over the white hotel, and smoke tunnels and sirens filled the sky as the city burned slowly. The only other car in the parking lot looked like it should have been prowling the streets with a couple of pounds of coke in the trunk and a dead body folded up in a suitcase, but I chose to ignore that when I notice a guy sitting on the hood eating Dunkaroos out of a tiny plastic container.

He had long blonde hair past his shoulders, and he was in an old jacket and ripped up jeans. A baseball cap with an unidentified sports logo was pulled backwards on his head, but it was too dirty to see what team he played for. 

"Excuse me!" I call to him, and I trip a little on a large chunk of gravel when I start towards his car, "Are you the guy I'm supposed to be meeting for our date tonight?"

The guy turns around and looks me up and down a little with sleepy eyes that kind of droop a little.

"Oh, hey," he says. "You're Hector, right?" 

He hops down from the car before I can answer, and I think this is the moment where he stabs me through the chest and steals my car before driving off into the night, because he was really fucking tall and kind of scary.

"I'm Ender Calloway," he tells me, and he slowly holds out his hand for a shake. His nails were painted bright green, some of them chipped, and his fingers were long and slender like he was. 

"You're kidding," I tell him, and I reluctantly take his hand. "Your name's really Ender?"